Grey Eyes
by Tearle
Summary: She had known this moment would come. Well, okay, maybe she hadn't known THIS particular moment would come, but she knew one like it would. She knew it was only a matter of time before she was at a wand's end, staring down one of her former classmates.


She had known this moment would come. Well, okay, maybe she hadn't known THIS particular moment would come, but she knew one like it would. She knew it was only a matter of time before she was at a wand's end, staring down one of her former classmates. How ironic that it would be the one who had tormented her most in school.

She wasn't like Harry and Ron. She derived no pleasure from the cursing and hexing of her enemies. If she was completely honest, she shouldn't even be here. She wasn't made for war. She may know more spells than the average witch, she may be fast on her feet and talented with a wand, but she absolutely hated the thought of attacking another living being.

She showed no emotion and her wand hand was steady as she pointed it at him. His ever-present smirk did nothing for his sharp features, features she remembered likening to a ferret once upon a time, when they had been nothing more than school enemies trying to best each other in classroom marks and hallway quips.

"Nothing to say, Mudblood?" She ignored his words and watched his eyes. Emotionless steel stared back at her. She pressed her mind, trying to remember if she had ever seen his eyes like this. Even when his face was a mask of indifference, his eyes had always been boiling with emotions, flashing with a dozen shades of grey as insult after insult rolled off his tongue.

"You've changed." At this, he gave her an inelegant snort, shifting his eyes to the battle raging behind her for only a moment.

"War has a tendency to do that." He slowly stalked around her, forcing her to turn in a circle in order to keep her wand trained on him. When their positions were reversed, with _her_ back against the crumbling wall of a decimated building and _his_ back to the psychedelic colors of war, he stopped. Despite the fact that she _should_ be feeling trapped, she felt infinitely safer. She could now see if any stray spells from the battle were coming towards her, or if anyone was sneaking up on them. The last thing you wanted in war was a surprise.

"I expected more questions from you," he spoke again. "Has the ever-curious Gryffindor Brain finally sated her thirst for knowledge?" She cocked her head to the side as she thought about his inquiry.

"Even if I asked, I couldn't trust your answers. What knowledge is there to be gained from falsities?" His smirk dropped from his lips.

"The world isn't black and white, Granger. Most lies have some element of truth." The wind blew a stray strand of silver-blond hair across his serious face as he spoke, and he lifted the hand not holding his wand to brush the chin length hair behind his ear. The sleeve of his robe fell away with the movement, and her eyes were drawn from his grey eyes to the black mark marring his pale white skin.

"I do have one question for you," she stated as she stared at the stain that stood for hating everything she was and believed. "Why did you help destroy Hogwarts? It was your school, too. Did you even think twice as you helped burn it to the ground? Did you feel no pain when it was nothing more than rubble at your feet?" So it was more than one question, but she was sure he would allow her this. When his arm lowered to his side, she wrenched her gaze back to his eyes.

"Even the Devil wept at the loss of Paradise." She forced herself to remain impassive, even as the shock of him referencing a Muggle religious idea washed over her.

"The Devil may have wept, but he was still the Devil."

"So he was, Granger. So he was." If they hadn't been standing so perfectly still for the last few moments, she might not have noticed the subtle movement of his blemished arm clenching. Shouts behind him sounded in the distance, cheers and golden sparks of victory floating in the air. He raised his hawthorn wand up in submission, nodded his head in her direction one time, and whispered softly, "Until we meet again, Granger," before disapparating toward some unknown location.

Guilt flooded her as she walked back towards her friends and fellow warriors. They had been risking their lives while she had been waxing philosophical with the enemy in some secluded corner of the battlefield. She hadn't once feared for herself. But...perhaps she had done a service to her side. She had kept one of the dark side's strongest fighters occupied, even if it wasn't with hexes and curses and the glorious dueling of wands one could only expect from Hogwarts' brightest duo. Perhaps there wasn't a black or white in this situation, no right or wrong, no good or bad. Perhaps there was only grey.

And while they celebrated yet another defeat of Voldemort's forces and mourned the loss of friends, her mind swam with the cold grey eyes of her once-enemy.

* * *

**A/N:** This short, little thing popped into my head while I was in the shower this morning. I feel Hermione was the only one of the Trio to recognize grey in the books (specifically #6), but I made her a black/white person like Ron and Harry for the purpose of this story. This is a one-shot. Please don't ask for a sequel or continuation. I tend to be very bad at continuing things. Also, for anyone stating "But Hermione and Draco would never end up together and he would hex her into oblivion!": Why on earth are you reading DM/HG fics? Really, I mean, come on. Besides, he never directly cursed her...and even warned her about the danger in #4! There are hints. Don't hate on others.


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